_Enter_ MARY.
MARY. O Philip!
Nay, must you go indeed?
PHILIP. Madam, I must.
MARY. The parting of a husband and a wife
Is like the cleaving of a heart; one half
Will flutter here, one there.
PHILIP. You say true, Madam.
MARY. The Holy Virgin will not have me yet
Lose the sweet hope that I may bear a prince.
If such a prince were born and you not here!
PHILIP. I should be here if such a prince were born.
MARY. But must you go?
PHILIP. Madam, you know my father,
Retiring into cloistral solitude
To yield the remnant of his years to heaven,
Will shift the yoke and weight of all the world
From off his neck to mine. We meet at Brussels.
But since mine absence will not be for long,
Your Majesty shall go to Dover with me,
And wait my coming back.
MARY. To Dover? no,
I am too feeble. I will go to Greenwich,
So you will have me with you; and there watch
All that is gracious in the breath of heaven
Draw with your sails from our poor land, and pass
And leave me, Philip, with my prayers for you.
PHILIP. And doubtless I shall profit by your prayers.
MARY. Methinks that would you tarry one day more
(The news was sudden) I could mould myself
To bear your going better; will you do it?
PHILIP.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111